Three Ways To Monday
by Iloveplotbunnies
Summary: He wishes that if they’re together they’ll finally give into the sexual tension mounting between them, considering that he’s tired of coming into work every morning to deal with the obvious signs of want, desire and pent up sexual frustration. J/L-ish.


**Three Ways to Monday**

**Summary: **He's quite content to let everyone speculate about where they both are, and he wishes that if they're together—they'll finally give into the sexual tension mounting between them, considering that he's tired of coming into work every morning to deal with the obvious signs of want, desire and pent up sexual frustration sparking between the two of them. J/L-ish.

**Disclaimer:** I seriously don't own _The Mentalist_.

**Spoilers:** "2x15" or "Red Herring" and 2x12 or "Rose-Colored Glasses"

**A/N: **

Okay, this is my epic humor piece for this month *laughs* if you can imagine the trouble this one caused. Anyway, this piece is for everyone who needs a laugh this month! I imagine we all sorta need a laugh anyway…as always, the rating is for slight sexual content and language!

The title of this piece however, is just a random insert of how my mind works. Enjoy!

* * *

Today, he's not on the brown leather couch in the bullpen of the Serious Crimes Unit.

He's not at his dust-collecting desk, which is unused.

He's not out causing trouble.

He's not ruining relationships, causing lawsuits or defacing public property.

Nope, instead he's standing on the first floor of the CBI waiting for the elevator next to the fierce Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit, Teresa Lisbon.

His day doesn't usually start out like this, because he's _never_ early and he normally doesn't run into Lisbon in the parking lot.

Her day doesn't start out like that either, because right now, he bets—she'd rather take a physical examination surrounded by vicious flesh-eating sharks than stand next to him and wait for the next available elevator but in her left hand, she pulls behind her a black case on wheels which is full of highly fragile material that can't be hoisted up any amount of steps, which means she's stuck with him.

The doors to the elevator open, and he makes the chivalrous movement of sweeping his arms to allow her to enter first, and she does enter, begrudgingly as he follows her and her black case on wheels with a bright smile on his face.

As he stands with his arms behind his back, and Lisbon next to him; he wishes something interesting would happen, and no more than two seconds later, it does—the both of them are sent crashing to the floor of the elevator in an entanglement of limbs and heated curse words, and then, their cascaded into pitch blackness.

"Lisbon?" Patrick Jane's voice sounds through the elevator, and he feels something soft under him squirming around. "Lis…"

"I heard you the first time, Jane." She hisses darkly. "Now, can you _please _get off of me?" He chuckles, but doesn't move until he feels a heel three inches short of an extremely private place, and he's glad to quickly remove himself from the brunette by rocketing toward one of the many walls and clinging onto the cool, metal handrail—he's not about to lose his manhood because she's angry about their whole situation, it's not his fault (besides the fact that he _did _wish something more interesting would happen) that this happened.

"You're no fun, Lisbon." Jane pouted, as he heard the dark haired woman move around on the floor before him. "We're going to be here a while."

"You think?" She sneers. "Why couldn't I have taken the damn steps?" He grins, though she can't see it and chuckles. "If I can pull out my cell phone…"

"Go right ahead, be my guest." He tells her, still with a grin—its a few seconds later when a narrow beam of light hits her face, highlighting her green eyes, narrow mouth and her cross glitters even more than usual against the hollow of her neck.

"Damn phone." She closes it and they're plunged back into total darkness again. "We're stuck here, until someone notices that we're missing…"

"Or until you decide to kick down the elevator door." He replies, jokingly.

"Or until I do that." She adds, and her tone isn't one that indicates joking—which makes him think, she's actually thought about doing just that.

"Can I borrow your flashlight?"

"Do I look like I have a flashlight anywhere on me?" He imagines her with her arms crossed against her chest, and eyes glinting daggers in his direction.

"It's dark, so you don't look like you have _anything_ on." She grows silent, and he knows that she's debating whether or not she _really _wants to beat the elevator door down with her own shoes, or Jane's own head. He wisely decides to stay quiet, not because he's afraid of her or anything but it's because the last thing he wants is his brains splattered all over the door.

*** * * **

It's 9:50 AM, and neither Jane nor Lisbon are anywhere near to the Serious Crimes Unit which causes some speculation from Van Pelt and Rigsby about where they may be, it also causes some pretty interesting rumors from the Organized Crime Unit.

Rigsby tells Van Pelt, as the both of them head toward the kitchenette that the elevator was broken this morning, as when he hit the button and stood there for almost ten minutes, one of the maintenance people took pity and told him that the elevator would most likely be broken until later that afternoon. Van Pelt only looks at him and shakes her head.

"You need the steps." She tells him, and he rolls his eyes behind her back… he needs the stairs, just like he needs the million bags of carrots stashed all over the SUV in the parking lot for stakeouts.

Yeah, not gonna happen—he deems, swiping a yogurt from the fridge.

*** * * **

They have nothing else to do.

He's been quiet for all of a half an hour before he's pestering her with his idea of playing a game.

She doesn't want to play a game.

She doesn't want to do _anything _besides, leave the elevator and take the stairs for the rest of her life.

"No." She repeats, for what seems to be the hundredth time in the past five minutes.

"Do you have anything better to do?" He asks.

"No."

"Why don't you want to play, Lisbon?"

"Because," She hisses through her clenched teeth. "The last game you suggested was Marco Polo and I refuse to play Marco Polo in an elevator."

"I also said Red Rover." She stares into what she thinks is his general direction, and wishes she could use his head to beat down the door.

"We're not playing that either." She tells him. "Why can't you go find something useful to do?"

"Maybe it's because I'm stuck in an elevator?" He offers, and she almost wants to reach her foot out and kick him again.

"Yet…you can play Red Rover in an elevator?"

"Of course," He responds. "It'd be a lot easier than playing flashlight tag, considering we don't exactly have any flashlights."

"You're an idiot." She's not afraid to tell him that, because in all honesty, it's true as his comments for the past five minutes or so, haven't been particularly intelligent. Especially considering they have no flashlights, no space to wiggle around in and both of them are completely sober (though Jane's behavior is consistent with being intoxicated…but she doubts he'd actually come into work after having touched any drugs or alcoholic beverages because if he did, she'd kill him; a completely sober Jane is difficult enough to handle and she doubts she could handle a completely hammered one, short of actually knocking him unconscious, which probably wouldn't be looked upon too highly by Hightower, that is.)

"You know you want to play something…" He tells her. "Marco…" and because she can't just _refuse _to play, she kicks him.

"Polo." And they don't speak again, as this time he curses because of her which makes this experience of being stuck in a dark elevator, a million times better.

* * *

Madeline Hightower just wants to do her job, and it's never easy being the boss but someone has to do it and she knows this while she stands in the middle of the bullpen, looking around at Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby who all deny that they have any idea where Lisbon and Jane are.

"We've been wondering the same thing, ma'am." Cho offers from his desk, paperwork splashed out across every spare inch of space. "Lisbon is never late and Jane is Jane." The man has a valid point on that last one.

"I've been hearing rumors…" She begins, as Rigsby chuckles and she turns to him to raise an eyebrow in response. "What's so funny, Agent Rigsby?"

"OCU loves to throw anything to the wolves, gossip on Jane and Lisbon missing together is bound to be something involving them having sex in one of the spare interrogation rooms." She stares at him. "We've already checked that rumor out…"

"And…?"

"They're obviously not there." Van Pelt tells her, arms crossed against her chest. "If Boss or Jane comes back, we'll be sure to give you a heads up." Lisbon would be proud of her rookie.

"Thank you, Agent Van Pelt." Van Pelt nods, and goes back to focus on her task at hand while she turns to leave the bullpen with a reminder to give a written reprimand for Van Pelt's behavior, as well as one for Lisbon's tardiness.

Jane is Jane, and she knows that any written reprimand given would probably be better saved for someone who can actually take it seriously.

* * *

For some odd reason, the black bag actually carries a flashlight.

Jane doesn't suggest flashlight tag again, he knows that Lisbon would have no qualms about shooting him here, in fact, he thinks, her fingers are probably itching to hold the shotgun and pull the trigger but he has no doubt that in ways, she's like a spider, as spiders don't usually attack humans first unless they're threatened, but Jane threatens Lisbon by just _breathing_ so that's probably an inaccurate and not to mention, horrible comparison.

No, Lisbon's more like…a viper.

Small but powerful,

Beautiful but deadly,

Fearless but feared.

And vipers tend to strike without any warnings, what-so-ever.

That fits Lisbon to a T.

Not to mention that she can tackle men twice her size, and still manage to look beautiful, which takes skill.

Not that he thinks his boss is beautiful or anything, he really doesn't.

He flickers his eyes from staring at his shoes to catch her face, which is bathed in the dim glow of the flashlight—green eyes stare at him, and his heart pounds acutely in his chest.

Okay, so maybe she _is _beautiful.

But that doesn't change anything, does it?

Nope. Nothing at all.

He's still Jane, and she's still Lisbon.

He's still the lawsuit-gaining consultant, and she's still the hard kickass boss.

But he can't help but wish for something, if anything, a little bit more than they have now; which consists of only a work relationship built on a foundation of revenge and false pretenses. He'd ask her to do another trust fall, but he doubts she'd like that.

In fact, she'd probably start having an aneurism.

And if she died?

She'd only come back to haunt him, and beautiful ghosts aren't his thing.

* * *

She doesn't like how she's staring at her, so what does she do?

She turns the flashlight around to where the light shines in his eyes and tries to blind him as he scowls in her general direction—today is her "hurt Jane" day which is probably due to the fact that she's only had one cup of coffee this morning, as she was expecting to get more after getting to work—but that was delayed, obviously.

"Now, that you're done trying to blind me…" He begins.

"If I was _trying _to blind you, I wouldn't rely on a flashlight." She tells him, focusing on the flashlight in her hands. "I'd use my hands."

"How…?" She glances up at him to see his eyebrow raised in question, and she shrugs.

"Haven't you ever heard of poking someone else's eye out?"

"I have," He responds, dropping his eyebrow in favor of a grin. "But usually that consists of sharp objects, books and little kids."

"…and exploding vehicles." She adds on under her breath, to which Jane only chuckles.

"I can't argue with you there." He responds. "So, how much longer do you think we'll be in here?" She shrugs.

"I don't know, I can't read minds."

"I wonder if they know we're missing…"

"Jane…"

"They'd notice I was missing, and probably wouldn't do anything about it; they'll notice you're not there Lisbon and…"

"Jane…"

"I wonder if they think you killed me or if the OCU is spreading rumors about us again…"

"Jane!" She screams, which causes him to stare at her with his mouth slightly open. "Why would everyone think I killed you?" He closes his mouth.

"I don't know," He responds, innocently. "Maybe it's because you are a tough as nails senior agent."

"Or maybe, it's because you keep telling them that I'm going to kill you." She growls, crossing her arms over her chest while being careful that the flashlight was still between the two of them.

"Oh, the OCU believes that…"

"I know." She exclaims which causes the both of them to fall back into silence until Jane looks at her with his sea-blue eyes and gives her his signature seducing look.

"Well… we could always make fiction the truth." He offers, and she kicks him again. "I guess that's a no."

"Why do you think I _want_ to make-out with you in an elevator, let alone anywhere else?" She asks, and he grins.

"I never said making-out, Lisbon." He tells her. "You've got a dirty mind." She feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she shakes her head while thinking that killing him would accomplish nothing, especially as she couldn't bring him to life and then kill him again. "Though…if you want to do _that_, we can."

"I'm not doing anything with you in an elevator."

"What about in your office?" She stares at him.

"What is this?" She asks him, with a glare. "Twenty questions about the best places in the CBI to have sex with Patrick Jane?"

"Actually," He responds. "It's twenty questions about how to seduce Teresa Lisbon." She blinks.

"Sex has absolutely nothing to do with seduction."

"Oh, really now?" He asks with humor in his voice. "Prove it."

"I'm not proving _anything _to you." She hisses. "_Especially_ not that one,"

"Think about how fun it would be though to seduce me…"

"Jane, I would rather seduce a cactus." She tells him, and he flinches.

"That would hurt."

"Jane, I would rather have sex with a cactus." Not really, but if she tells him that he might actually drop the subject.

"Masochistic, Lisbon," He tells her. "I didn't know you had a whole pain fetish…" She groans, and almost hits her head against the wall; but she can only blame herself for this one because Jane's mind is completely in the gutter now.

Ugh, and on top of being stuck in an elevator, she now has to deal with Jane and his raging teenage-like hormones.

Oh, lovely. Life just keeps getting better and better, especially with the way he's staring at her as if he's seen her in a completely new light.

She quietly groans and wonders what he would say if she asked him to shoot her, but she bets it would have something to do with her newly found "masochistic" streak.

*** * ***

It's 12:19 PM.

Van Pelt still hasn't seen hide or tale of Jane or Lisbon, which makes her wonder if they played hooky but she doubts a woman of Lisbon's work ethic would decide to miss work but Jane, well…he would miss work to deface public property or something.

"Do you think they're alright?" She asks, and Cho looks up at her from his novel (as he finished his paperwork about thirty minutes ago).

"I don't know." She nods.

"Well," Rigsby begins, as he brings his eyes on her. "One of them better get here soon, Hightower's on a rampage." Van Pelt restrains herself from rolling her eyes, that woman needs to find something better to do than keep visiting them every hour on the hour to see if Lisbon or Jane has joined them yet.

If anything, Lisbon wasn't going to be pleased about the abundance of bad attitudes running a mile long between the SCU and Hightower.

*** * * **

"So, if I stepped on your foot would you enjoy that?" He asks, and she peers at him from her spot on the floor.

"If I kick your face in, would you enjoy that?" She mocks, and he smirks.

"No need to be testy Lisbon." Jane replies. "I'm just seeing how this streak of yours works…"

"Why?"

"Because there's nothing better do, and I'm hungry." He adds, with a simple shrug. "And…"

"So, let me get this straight." She interrupts. "I take your mind off being hungry."

"Meh," He waves it off. "You still make me hungry, just not for foo…_Lisbon_!" She kicks him. "This must mean you're a sadist also." She looks at him. "Heh, we should have a club."

"It's takes two to join a club, and I'm not a sadist."

"You enjoy causing me pain."

"Yes, I do." She admits. "But it's because you start it."

"Do not." Jane pouts.

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too." He sticks his tongue out at her, which causes her eyebrow to rise.

"Oh, so _mature _and _sophisticated_, Jane." She tells him. "Forty years old and you still act like you're only three." He shrugs with a grin on his face.

"Forever young." He states. "I'm forever young." He chuckles and starts to hum the few bars of a song which causes her to swipe her foot in his direction, only to miss him.

"If you start singing…"

"Why would I start singing…?" She peers at him, eyebrow still raised.

"Hmmm…let's see…why do I think you're going to start singing…?"

"I don't know Lisbon, that's what I'm waiting for you tell me." She doesn't respond, and throws a cold glare in his direction instead as he chuckles again. "Alright, so I _was_ going to burst out in song—we don't have any wonderful elevator music to keep us company." She stares at him. "I could always do a remix of "More Than Words"."

"Jane, if you do any _remixes_…"

"Or, I can do a remix of "The Power of Love"…"

"I…wait, isn't that a Celine Dion song…?" Lisbon tilts her head, as he nods.

"I've been known to do a bit of high soprano singing…"

"Where?" She asks him with a snicker. "In the shower…?" Both of them grow silent, as she's mortified by her highly inappropriate comment and he's surprised.

"Oh Lisbon," He says after his mouth finally closes. "I didn't know you wanted to see me in the shower."

"I don't." She squeaks, while she curses herself for walking into this one. "Don't flatter yourself Jane; I'm not like half of the women in the CBI who probably have pictures of you on their walls at home." He raises his eyebrow.

"I'm sure you don't." He crosses his arms across his chest, and with a smirk he continues on. "Of course, but then again—you can stare at me all day long."

"Who wants to stare at you?"

"Obviously the women who have me on their walls…"

"I bet Hightower has pictures of you…" She mutters and Jane stares at her in shock, and surprise. He wasn't supposed to hear that, but as she watches his own mortification set in she feels smug.

"Ugh, _Lisbon_." He whines. "Don't put that image in my head!" She rolls her eyes.

"You started it."

"I only wanted to sing to you, I didn't mean to talk to you about my showering habits." He replies.

"So, you _do _sing in the shower?" He doesn't respond, and she chuckles—this is going to be something to hold over him for some time, and the way he just casts his eyes away from her tells that he doesn't want anyone knowing that he sings in the shower.

"No."

"Liar," She calls him, and he just grins.

"Like you don't keep a bottle of alcohol in your bottom drawer of your desk," He rebuts, and she opens her mouth in surprise before she decides to narrow her eyes in suspicion at him.

"I knew it! You _were_ the one who broke into my office."

"Meh, I thought I made that blatantly obvious." He tells her. "I left a paper frog in one of your drawers…"

"Probably the one with the…" She murmurs and he smiles.

"You shouldn't drink Lisbon; it's not a good habit."

"Neither is your petty ideal for revenge." She shoots back, out of all the times he could bring up any of her habits—this wasn't one of the best times to do so.

"Touché." He responds, softly as he leans back.

*** * * **

Cho sits at his desk, book in hand as he tries to ignore the inane chattering between Van Pelt and Rigsby. It seems that the one day that they don't have cases, neither Jane or Lisbon are there which seems strange in his opinion, but he's not about to tell anybody that.

He's quite content to let everyone speculate about where they both are, and he wishes that if they're together—they'll finally give into the mounting sexual tension between them, considering that he's tired of coming into work every morning to deal with the obvious signs of want, desire and pent up sexual frustration sparking between the two of them.

They may not be dating, but if someone can just lock the both of them up _somewhere _(beyond the initial starts of Lisbon wanting to kill Jane and Jane annoying her) they may actually decide to explore their sexual frustrations.

As long as they don't do it in here, he muses, eyes back on the text, I'm perfectly fine with it.

*** * * **

He blames himself for this situation, because if they were about twenty years younger—this would be appropriate.

It was a complete accident, but as he was standing to stretch his legs—he fell into Lisbon's form on the ground; and from there…well…he feels heat in his cheeks, flashlight discarded on the floor as he presses her against the elevator wall.

However, for two adults—this is entirely inappropriate; but he doesn't mind.

They have nothing else to do after all.

*** * * **

She blames herself for this situation, because if they weren't acting like hormonal adults—they could concentrate on getting out of the elevator—but with the way he has her pinned to the elevator wall, eyes glued to her lips, she doubts he's going to let her go; even if they're saved by some chance.

It's not completely her fault, in retrospective—Jane fell on top of her, and he pressed his lips to hers.

She tried to end it, by standing up and telling him they couldn't do this.

But uh… Jane…well…he's very persuasive.

Downright sneaky, and extremely persuasive, but she already knew that.

So here she stands, pressed to the wall of the elevator, being mauled (as if Jane's behavior could be described in any other word), and it would have probably gone all the way for the two of them (as her hands lingered on the buttons of his vest, and his on her belt) if the elevator hadn't started moving (and if their surrounding hadn't changed from pitch blackness to blinding lights) at which point the two jump away from each other as if burnt.

The elevator opens on the third floor, and to the amazement of the maintenance crew—both Jane and Lisbon stroll out, her black bag rolls behind her and he steps a few spaces behind her; both of them looking a little…unkempt for being stuck in an elevator for a little over six hours.

*** * * **

"Where have you two been all day?" Hightower hisses, as Lisbon and Jane are in her office (no more than five minutes after the both of them step from the elevator, Hightower has them brought to her office)

"We were stuck in the elevator." Jane offers, with a slight grin. "We would have invited you, but uh…it was short notice." Hightower laughs, and stares at the both of them.

"Do you expect me to believe this lie?" She questions, and he nods.

"Agent Hightower…" Lisbon begins.

"I'll get to you, Agent Lisbon." Hightower tells her, before she focuses back on Jane.

"Lisbon and I decided to ride the elevator up together, and before we knew it—we were plunged into complete darkness." He explains. "Why would I make a story up like this?" She peers at him.

"You've done other things before, Patrick." He shivers slightly, and Lisbon's lips twitch slightly. "…and why the hell do the both of you look as if you've been rolling around in hay?" Jane and Lisbon cast glances at each other, and she shakes her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know—you're both dismissed." Both leave her office, and she sighs. Of everything she expected from her senior agent and consultant of the SCU, she never expected this one.

Honestly, who would really believe a story about being stuck on an elevator? She'd rather have them tell her the truth, just so she could offer a formal reprimand.

*** * ***

It's obvious to anyone in a five-mile radius that the both of them had a make-out session in the elevator, but her team doesn't say anything about it (if they notice, that is) which she thinks they do because her hair is a mess, and her lips might actually be bruised but if anything, Jane doesn't look at her.

But, she kind of wishes he does.

*** * * **

He's done many things in his life, but this was probably a first for him—how many people could say they spent the whole morning in an elevator, and then made-out with their boss.

Heh, they had something on Rigsby and Van Pelt.

He wishes that he'd have the courage to look at her, but what exactly would he say?

_Oh yeah, I'm sorry Lisbon—I didn't mean to enact my hormonal feelings for you in the elevator, do you think we can just forget about it? _

He almost snickers thinking about saying that, until he realizes that he's on his couch and he'd have to explain to everyone what he's laughing at, she'd kill him if he told them what he was laughing at but just the thought of her lips against his, makes him sigh and he hears someone snicker and his eyes meet Cho's.

"What?"

"Nothing," Cho tells him. "Nothing at all." Jane wants to call out liar, but figures it'd be kind of pointless. As Lisbon walks off and steps back into her office, he decides that he's going to handle the elevator scene the best way they can…till they can find time to talk.

"Hey Rigsby, guess what." Jane asks Rigsby, ignoring Cho's comment. "Lisbon's got a masochistic streak."

*** * * **

Lisbon wonders if it's too late to kill him without any witness as the last sound from the bullpen is Jane's booming laughter and Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt's quiet chuckles.

I'll mention our impromptu session when I'm ready, she silently thinks with her eyes glued to the computer screen, but not before then.


End file.
